As If In Prayer
by Sahara Storm
Summary: [Oneshot, SasuSaku] Who loves you make you cry; who doesn't, makes you laugh.


**Title:** As If In Prayer**  
Fandom:** Naruto**  
Pairing:** Sasuke/Sakura**  
Rating: **PG**  
Word Count:** 709**  
Summary/Description: **Who loves you make you cry; who doesn't, makes you laugh.**  
Warning/Spoilers:** None.**  
A/N: **I'm very rusty, and it shows. /hasn't touched Naruto in a long long time.**  
Dedication:** For Yukari Rin! I hope this cheers you up a little bit, sweetie.**  
Disclaimer:** Naruto is not mine.

* * *

He doesn't see her.

When she is eight years old, she is just another face in the mass. She hopes for more, like all of her other friends who crowd around her, hands clasped in adoration but as if in prayer, mouths open in silent awe, eyes trained and fixed and framing the symbol of a fan. Sasuke-kun is _amazing_; he cuts through air with a fluidity that makes a mockery of the rivers; he punches targets with tiny stone fists that could pierce the sky if ever he vaulted high enough to reach it. He is going places other students at the Academy are not even envisioning yet; doing things they have not yet worked up the ambition to try to obtain.

Sakura loves him. Everyone loves him, right? She doesn't think she's just like everyone else, of course. She can see beyond his dark hair and his dark eyes and that little frown that sends Yomiko into a faint every time she sees it. Sasuke-kun is... well, he's not like the other boys. He's not dumb and rough and doesn't spend time throwing clods at the back of girls' heads. Sakura bets he's going to go places, real places, and she looks on in awe.

In the afternoons, some of the girls follow him home from school. Ino is going, so Sakura does too, hanging around shyly at the back. Yomiko has been working up her courage all day, and she pushes her way to the front of the group, and calls out,

"Sasuke-kun! C-can I walk w—"

"No." It's said very quietly, but with a coldness that is meant to cut. He doesn't turn around, or even stop walking for a moment.

While the girls fall around Yomiko as tears well in her eyes, Sakura looks on in genuine pity. Her eyes however, stray to Sasuke-kun's retreating back. She knows that had she been the one to ask, the answer would have been the same.

It's not easy to bear, but she laughs, because it's okay, and she'll be okay. She joins the other girls in trying to cheer up Yomiko.

* * *

He sees her.

When she is twelve years old, she somehow has the immense, earth-shaking, mind-blowing _luck_ to be selected to be on the same team as Sasuke-kun. Exuberance is the order of the day for the next several days, weeks, and _months_, even, because even though that idiot Naruto is on her team as well... this is her chance! Her chance to learn all she can about Sasuke-kun; Sasuke-kun the _boy_ behind all the mystery and tragedy. Her chance to get close to him, and show him that she's really good at all sorts of stuff too. Her chance to... well, she doesn't know exactly what yet, but she is going to figure it out.

They fight. They learn. They grow. They fight a bit more, though that's mostly Naruto versus Sasuke-kun, rather than Team Seven versus the enemies, but somehow, under Kakashi's sharp, sleepy eye, they manage, and they develop. In the face of Sasuke-kun's genius, and Naruto's brute determination, Sakura knows that she doesn't seem very special. They save her, yes, but sometimes, she saves herself. Sometimes, she gets the chance to show that she has potential. They become shinobi, and Sakura learns what it's like to bloom.

When it comes to proving herself, however, she still feels like she's falling short.

She's still twelve when the loveliest, coldest moon she's ever known rises into the sky and Sasuke-kun walks out of her life.

He doesn't look at her; not even once. Not even when her voice cracks with emotion and the wind whips her hair across her face. Not even when the tears trap in her throat and she finds it hard to breathe, or speak, because he's walking away and he doesn't intend to come back ever. Not even when she begs.

He doesn't look at her, only at the back of her head, to tell her two words she never expected to hear from him, and deal her a blow that's nowhere as painful as the hurt she feels in her chest.

When she wakes up, it's morning, and she's still crying. It's not going to be okay.


End file.
